


Coming Home to You

by pfieffer



Category: Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: M/M, World War I
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 16:42:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5171687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pfieffer/pseuds/pfieffer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eggsy was saved by Harry, and then went off to fight in WWI but not without consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coming Home to You

**Author's Note:**

> Written because of tumblr user cxllmeroxy we are in this trashcan together.   
> There is some graphic things in it.   
> First venture into the kingsman fan fic world.   
> This is not beta'd or edited in any way shape or form.

Eggsy was just his valet. That’s all Eggsy should have been, but all the workers in the Hart household knew it was so much more than that. All the workers in the Hart household knew that Harry and Eggsy were very close. Closer than they should be. They turned a blind eye when they saw the two men together because it was accepted for the times, but if they said anything well—Harry could be very scary when talking to them before he potentially fired them.

Thing was they didn’t need to talk ill about them. Eggsy was charming, he may have come from the streets, but he was charming. Everyone loved him, and they could see why Harry loved the boy so. It was incredibly hard not to. You had to try and find something you disliked about him.

Harry had found Eggsy doing a less than favorable career. When Harry inquired, the boy shut down, and refused to say much about it. Eventually Harry got him to talk, the story of his dad’s death, and his mom having to raise him, but not have the means to do it, wasn’t easy. Eggsy had said “It wasn’t like we had money before he died, but my dad could get a job.” His dad died on the job, in the factory, and Eggsy didn’t want that same fate, so he started something less respectable.

Harry at first took pity on the boy, took him in gave him a job, and went from there.

Then the war came. Eggsy told him he wanted to sign up, they were taking volunteers. Harry wanted to tell him, wanted to hold him close, and tell him he was doing just fine staying where he was. Harry would keep him here, but Eggsy insisted. After all, Harry taught him how to shoot, he’d be fine. Everyone was saying it would be short.

So Eggsy went.

The letters were the only thing that kept Harry grounded, they were the only things that kept Eggsy from being affected by the life in the trenches.

_Harry,_

_My handwriting is shit, but you knew that. I saw men die last night, but you don’t want to hear about that. My feet are killing me, they’re wet all the time, and it hurts to walk occasionally. But other than that I’m fine. I miss you. Think you can tell my about Pygmalion some more? Its my favorite ya know. It’ll help me, I swear._

_-Eggsy_

_My Dearest Eggsy,_

_Your handwriting is improving, but your grammar and spelling could use work. I’ve enclosed some notes on Pygmalion for you. I’d send you the book, but I’m not sure that’s really what you want. You should get your feet looked at, soon, or get a new pair of boots. I’ve enclosed some cigarettes, I know you like the dreadful things. I miss you too, my boy, come back to me soon._

_Harry_

_Harry,_

_No I don’t want the fucking book, though it’s great. That’s not what I want. I want your words about it, because then I can hear your voice. I can see your face. I can see your proper self trying to make sure I pay attention. I always was, Harry, always. They don’t have new boots, but they said my feet were fine. Like I told you I am fine. Its scare sometimes, but then I think about you, and how brave you are, and I just do what you would do. I’ll come home to you Harry, I swear._

_-Eggsy._

That was the longest of Eggsy’s letters. Sometimes they had a few lines, but they soon got shorter and shorter, not even greeting Harry. Just saying miss you, or love you. The period between them got longer and longer. Harry continued sending the letters never knowing if Eggsy got them. He did, kept them with him.

Then the accident came. Eggsy’s arm was nearly blown off. It was blown off, and he couldn’t do anything. They got him to the hospital in London because he was lucky. But also because Harry pulled a lot of strings when Eggsy signed up.

Eggsy sat in one of the beds delirious as they put him asleep, and took his arm. His dominant arm. He’d have to learn to write again, or just send no more letters to Harry.

Arm gone, he was dancing in between the world of sleep, and the land of the living. “Har,” he said through a haze of sleep, “Harry.”

Someone shushed him, and pet his hair, telling him to sleep.

He woke again, not really registering anything. But he wasn’t in the trenches. He saw a woman, a nurse, so he was hurt. Not dead. He wasn’t dead. She smiled at him, “These were in your shirt, I saved them for you.” It was Harry’s letters. “You also are very lucky, we were able to save your feet, trench foot is a nasty thing.”

She was saying things, but she still looked at him with Pity, and that was when he looked down, and screamed. His arm was gone. She had to call in one of the sisters to get him to go back to sleep because he would not calm down.

He woke up again, and he tried to rub his face, but he remembered, no arm. The appendage that wasn’t there was glaring at him, it itched. But it wasn’t there. A nurse was there again, “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit, why does my arm itch?”

She gave a little laugh, “Well scratch it?”

“I can’t scratch it if it ain’t there.”

She frowned, “It tends to happen, I’m very sorry.” She made a move to get up.

“Wait, wait, can you do something for me?”

She went back to his bedside, “Of course, what would you like?”

“Can you tell, em—tell my… tell,”

“You’re wife?”

Eggsy shook his head, “No, my boss that I’m here?”

“Who is that?”

“Harry Hart.”

She smiled, and left.

Eggsy laid back on the bed, wanting to scratch an arm that wasn’t there, and he cried. He cried, because he wanted Harry, but Harry wasn’t there. He should have listened to the man. He really should have.

Eggsy had been at the hospital a week, and they had finally coaxed him into walking around. It was weird not having an arm to swing back and forth. It was even weirder that sometimes he could feel it brush against his leg, or the side of his body. It was just a painful reminder that his arm wasn’t there.

The nurse seemed happier today when she looked up. She was eager to get him up and about. When Eggsy wasn’t completely pulled in on himself, the nurses loved those shining moments of his personality. Everyone did. Everyone loved his personality. At least that meant they were less likely to look at the fact that part of him wasn’t their anymore.

“You have more color in your face today,” the nurse said, trying assure Eggsy. Eggsy was pretty sure half of what they told him was lies so he didn’t try to off himself. No Eggsy stopped those thoughts after he tried that first time. He had Harry to go home to, and he rather not do it in a casket.

They rounded a corner and Eggsy stilled. He went completely rigid as he saw a man at the end of the corridor. The tall silhouette. It couldn’t be him, but the word escaped his mouth in a whisper, “Harry.”

The nurse smiled and gave his hand a squeeze. Harry turned, and Eggsy choked out a sob, “Harry!”

He began to run, falling a little, but Harry caught on. Harry ran faster, and caught Eggsy in his arms, “Oh my dear boy, my dear stupid boy.” He gripped Eggsy tight, and Eggsy melted into the embrace. He could only give have of one back, and he started to cry.

“I’m sorry,” he said into the fabric of Harry’s suit.

“No, you came home, that’s all that matters.”


End file.
